Score
by Karigan Aisling
Summary: After leaving the confined safety of Rivendell, a sparring contest catches the attention of two young Hobbits.


Disclaimer: 

I don't own these characters, they are the creations of Prof. JRR Tolkien's creative imagination. 

Summary:

_After leaving the confined safety of Rivendell, a sparring contest catches the attention of two young Hobbits._

**Scores**

Dusk had long fallen. It had been several weeks since the Fellowship had departed from Imladris, and already the tension between the nine companions had lessened. Pippin and Merry had remained the central cause for amusement, telling _anyone_ who would listen, about their antics from the Shire. Boromir watched them with a small merriment in his eyes, while keeping watch over a small fire in the centre of their camp. Gandalf and Gimli son of Gloin were tucked away in a corner, having a heated discussion about pipeweed and ales. Frodo was dozing near the flames, with Sam barely a few inches away, keeping a permanent protective watch over him. 

The only movement, besides an occasional exaggerated act from Pippin, was from the other end of the small campsite. Legolas and Aragorn were sparring playfully, the Ranger wielding Anduril and the Elf Prince sporting his two long knives. Their moves were graceful, and to any spectators, it would seem to be almost like a dance. No words were spoken between them, yet upon instinct, they knew what the other was thinking, their judgements, force and speed all carefully calculated to the point where it was all memorised. 

While Merry was still babbling on about how he and Pippin had '_borrowed' some of Farmer Maggot's crops, his younger friend had lost all interest in the topic, focusing on the two  figures in front of him. The fire roared suddenly, and it seemed to cast huge black shadows onto their surroundings, enlarging their performance and making it seem much more daring and thrilling than before. Just one slip, one wrong move could lead to a nasty wound, or even a fatal blow. The clear ring of clashing blades resounded and echoed all around Pippin, encasing him in a dream-like state. _

He was enthralled at watching the two partners in their dance of death. Just think, eight months ago he was living in one of Merry's tales, stealing apples and mushrooms from Farmer Maggot, and listening to elder Hobbits speak of times gone by. Now he was living in a different tale, one of danger and excitement, filled with the doings of the Big and Little folk alike, with an alarming amount of magic (thrown in mostly by Gandalf himself) popping up at every corner, and Pippin did not know quite how to handle it. This was a _real adventure, although he didn't quite understand it. Like one of Mr. Bilbo's adventures that he had been told of ever since he was a child. And this time, _he_ was actually in an adventure of a lifetime. He only vaguely acknowledged that Merry was still talking. Shaking his head, he pulled himself out of his day-dream and settled back to, once again, hear about the time he and Merry had gotten chased by the Farmer's dogs._

Across from Pippin, Sam was also gazing at the duelling couple. He had observed Strider fighting already, on WeatherTop, but Legolas was a different matter entirely. The Hobbit watched as the Elf seemed to glide over the ground, his face full of youthful looking laughter and bemusement. His golden hair whipped around his face, which was lit up by fiery flames, exaggerating the passion and excitement in the Elf's eyes. This was one of the rare times when Legolas let his stony mask drop, and revealed the lively and bubbly creature underneath. As always, it had been _Aragorn_ who had encouraged Legolas to open up to him. A surge of jealousy sprang through Sam, making him shiver with envy. He wished that Legolas was as close to him as he was to Strider, then this quest would seem a lot easier, knowing he had a friend like Legolas to lean on when he needed it. Frodo shifted his weight on Sam's chest, and Sam suddenly felt overcome with guilt. Of course he had a friend who was as close to him as Legolas was to Strider. In his haste he had almost forgotten about Mr. Frodo. The Elf in question was circling with the Ranger now, the latter with a form of fierce competitiveness in his face. His partner, however, laughed at his stern face, and twirled his knives in his fingers, showing off slightly. Legolas called out some words in his own tongue, and laughed again. His voice washed over Sam, encasing him in a warm blanket of contentment. Aragorn, however, seemed angered by the phrase used, and charged at his companion, eyes alive with anger and irritation. Nimbly, Legolas stepped to the side, allowing his friend to crash head first into Boromir, who seemed to have drifted off into his own little world, before Aragorn had fallen full-force onto him. 

For a moment, no-one spoke. Then a soft (and rather amused) sounding voice called out:

"I believe _I _won this time Estel."  

Sam had to bury his face in Frodo's hair to hide his smiling face. Gandalf and Gimli, pipes and conversation forgotten, looked up to see what the disturbance was. Even Pippin and Merry had quietened down. Aragorn picked himself up off the floor, and looked around him embarrassedly. Legolas, meanwhile, had settled himself into a cosy little corner on a tree branch, just above Sam's head, and was singing an Elvish tune under his breath. As the Fellowship settled themselves down to sleep for the night, Gandalf volunteering to stay watch, a voice floated across the clearing, so soft, it was almost unheard.

"Elves one. Mortals zero."


End file.
